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Oh well； back to the budget。
If I get a Variations； that's four bucks and we're up to 45。 Some of the money that's left I might use to buy a CD； although I don't have to； or a candy…bar or two （I know I shouldn't； because my plexion still blows dead rats； although I'm almost not a teenager anymore）。 I think of calling out for a pizza or for Chinese sometimes； but it's against TransCorp's rules。 Also； I would feel weird doing it； like a member of the oppressing class。 I have delivered pizza； remember。 I know what a sucky job it is。 Still； if I could order in； the pizza guy wouldn't leave this house with a quarter tip。 I'd lay five on him； watch his eyes light up。
But you're starting to see what I mean about not needing a lot of cash money； aren't you？ When Thursday morning rolls around again； I usually have at least eight bucks left； and sometimes it's more like twenty。 What I do with the coins is drop them down the storm…drain in front of my house。 I am aware that this would freak the neighbors out if they saw me doing it （I'm a high…school dropout； but I didn't leave because I was stupid； thank you very much）； so I take out the blue plastic recycling basket with the newspapers in it （and sometimes with a Penthouse or Variations buried halfway down the stack； I don't keep that shit around for long； who would）； and while I'm putting it down on the curb； I open the hand with the change in it； and through the grate in the gutter it goes。 Tinkle…tinkle…tinkle…splash。 Like a magician's trick。 Now you see it； now you don't。 Someday that drain will get clogged up； they'll send a guy down there and he'll think he won the fucking lottery； unless there's a flood or something that pushes all the change down to the waste treatment plant； or wherever it goes。 By then I'll be gone。 I'm not going to spend my life in Columbia City； I can tell you that。 I'm leaving； and soon。 One way or the other。
The currency is easier。 I just poke it down the garbage disposal in the kitchen。 Another magic trick； presto…change…o； money into lettuce。 You probably think that's very weird； running money through the sink…pig。 I did； too； at first。 But you get used to just about anything after you do it awhile； and besides； there's always another seventy falling through the letter…slot。 The rule is simple： no squirrelling it away。 End the week broke。 Besides； it's not millions we're talking about； only eight or ten bucks a week。 Chump…change； really。
III
DINKY'S DAYBOARD。 That's another fringe benefit。 I write down whatever I want during the week； and I get everything I ask for （except sex…mags； as I told you）。 Maybe I'll get bored with that eventually； but right now it's like having Santa Claus all year round。 Mostly what I write down is groceries； like anyone does on their kitchen chalkboard； but by no means is groceries all。
I might； for instance； write down 'New Bruce Willis Video' or 'New Weezer CD' or something like that。 A funny thing about that Weezer CD； since we're on the subject。 I happened to go into Toones Xpress one Friday after my movie was over （I always go to the show on Friday afternoons； even if there's nothing I really want to see； because that's when the cleaners e）； just killing time inside because it was rainy and that squashed going to the park； and while I was looking at the new releases； this kid asks a clerk about the new Weezer CD。 The clerk tells him it won't be in for another ten days or so； but I'd had it since the Friday before。
Fringe benefits； like I say。
If I write down 'sport shirt' on the DAYBOARD； there it is when I get back to the house on Friday night； always in one of the nice earth…tone colors I like。 If I write down 'new jeans' or 'chinos；' I get those。 All stuff from The Gap； which is where I'd go myself； if I had to do stuff like that。 If I want a certain kind of after…shave lotion or cologne； I write the name on DINKY'S DAYBOARD and it's on the bathroom counter when I get home。 I don't date； but I'm a fool for cologne。 Go figure。
Here's something you'll laugh at； I bet。 Once I wrote down 'Rembrandt Painting' on the DAYBOARD。 Then I spent the afternoon at the movies and walking in the park； watching people making out and dogs catching Frisbees； thinking how eventual it would be if the cleaners actually brought me my own fucking Rembrandt。 Think of it； a genuine Old Master on the wall of a house in the Sunset Knoll section of Columbia City。 How eventual would that be？
And it happened； in a manner of speaking。 My Rembrandt was hung on the living room wall when I got home； over the sofa where the velvet clowns used to be。 My heart was beating about two hundred a minute as I walked across the room toward it。 When I got closer； I saw it was just a copy 。 。 。 you know； a reproduction。 I was disappointed； but not very。 I mean； it was a Rembrandt。 Just not an original Rembrandt。
Another time； I wrote 'Autographed Photo of Nicole Kidman' on the DAYBOARD。 I think she's the best…looking actress alive； she just gets me on so much。 And when I got home that day； there was a publicity still of her on the fridge； held there by a couple of those little vegetable magnets。 She was on her Moulin Rouge swing。 And that time it was the real deal。 I know because of the way it was signed： 'To Dinky Earnshaw； with love & kisses from Nicole。'
Oh； baby。 Oh； honey。
Tell you something； my friend…if I worked hard and really wanted it； there might be a real Rembrandt on my wall someday。 Sure。 In a job like this； there is nowhere to go but up。 In a way； that's the scary part。
IV
I never have to make grocery lists。 The cleaners know what I like…Stouffer's frozen dinners； especially that boil…in…the…bag stuff they call creamed chipped beef and Ma had always called shit on a shingle； frozen strawberries； whole milk； pre…formed hamburger patties that you just have to slap in a hot frying pan （I hate playing with raw meat）； Dole puddings； the ones that e in plastic cups （bad for my plexion but I love em）； ordinary food like that。 If I want something special； I write it down on DINKY'S DAYBOARD。
Once I asked for a homemade apple pie； specifically not from the supermarket； and when I came back that night around the time it was getting dark； my pie was in the fridge with the rest of the week's groceries。 Only it wasn't wrapped up； it was just sitting there on a blue plate。 That's how I knew it was homemade。 I was a little hesitant about eating it at first； not knowing where it came from and all； and then I decided I was being stupid。 A person doesn't really know where supermarket food es from； not really。 I mean； we assume it's okay because it's wrapped up or in a can or 'double…sealed for your protection；' but anyone could have been handling it with dirty fingers before it was double…sealed； or sneezing great big whoops of booger…breath on it； or even wiping their asses with it。 I don't mean to gross you out； but it's true； isn't it？ The world is full of strangers； and a lot of them are 'up to no good。' I have had personal experience of this； believe me。
Anyway； I tried the pie and it was delicious。 I ate half of it Friday night and the rest on Saturday morning； while I was running the numbers in Cheyenne； Wyoming。 Most of Saturday night I spent on the toilet； shitting my guts out from all those apples； I guess； but I didn't care。 The pie was worth it。 'Like mother used to make' is what people say； but it can't be my mother they say it about。 My Ma couldn't fry Spam。
V
I never have to write down underwear on the DAYBOARD。 Every five weeks or so the old drawers disappear and there are brand…new Hanes Jockey…shorts in my bureau； four three…packs still in their plastic bags。 Double…sealed for my protection； ha…ha。 Toilet…paper； laundry soap； dishwasher soap； I never have to write any of that shit down。 It just appears。
Very eventual； don't you think？
VI
I have never seen the cleaners； any more than I have ever seen the guy （or maybe it's a gal） who delivers my seventy bucks every Thursday during As the World Turns。 I never want to see them； either。 I don't need to； for one thing。 For another； yes； okay； I'm afraid of them。 Just like I was afraid of Mr。 Sharpton in his big gray Mercedes on the night I went out to meet him。 So sue me。
I don't eat lunch in my house on Fridays。 I watch As the World Turns； then jump in my car and drive into town。 I get a burger at Mickey D's； then go to a movie； then to the park if the weather is good。 I like the park。 It's a good place to think； and these days I've got an awful lot to think about。
If the weather is bad； I go to the mall。 Now that the days are beginning to shorten； I'm thinking about taking up bowling again。 It'd be something to do on Friday afternoons； at least。 I used to go now and then with Pug。
I sort of miss Pug。 I wish I could call him； just shoot the shit； tell him some of the stuff that's been going on。 Like about that guy Neff； for instance。
Oh； well； spit in the ocean and see if it es back。
While I'm away； the cleaners are doing my house from wall to wall and top to bottom…wash the dishes （although I'm pretty good about that myself）